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<title>it's a sugar date (what if spring is late) by earnmysong</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27993300">it's a sugar date (what if spring is late)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/earnmysong/pseuds/earnmysong'>earnmysong</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i'll have a cup of tea (and tell you of my dreaming) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Future Fic, Post-WandaVision, Winter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:27:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>982</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27993300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/earnmysong/pseuds/earnmysong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Exactly! So don’t go getting bronchitis or pneumonia on [the dog's] account. He already has life pretty well under control.” Bucky tugs [Wanda's] zipper closed as the wind picks up. “And drink this.” </i>
</p><p>{Or: Wanda and Bucky enjoy a moment together in the city}</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Wanda Maximoff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i'll have a cup of tea (and tell you of my dreaming) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it's a sugar date (what if spring is late)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/gifts">myracingthoughts</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/treaddelicately/gifts">treaddelicately</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, hello, I'm a relatively new passenger on the Winterwitch train and, because I'm me, my first foray into writing these two is festive. I used the prompt 'holiday drinks' as inspiration and, for the record, I'm with Wanda on chai.</p><p>I'm gifting this to my darlings @myracingthoughts + @treaddelicately! Without these ladies, I would still be in the Winterwitch dark.</p><p>Marvel owns everything it rightfully should, and the title comes courtesy of whichever version of 'Marshmallow World' you enjoy the most!</p><p>If you - like me - are all about the languages, the Russian Wanda uses translates thusly:</p><p>rasslabsya, ty bolshoi rebenok: relax, you big baby<br/>milaya: sweet(ie)<br/>pravilny: right/correct</p><p>And, yes, I know Wanda's accent being Russian-based has been kabashed by <i>WandaVision</i> press, but she can totally speak it in addition to Sokovian, right? Right!</p><p>I feel like the following needs to be screamed from my inner rooftops, so here goes nothing: This story takes place in a post-<i>WandaVision</i> (2021) future of my own making. *crosses self on a loop*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>----</p><p>“Mobile order for JB?” A harried barista shoves two cups across the pickup counter at Bucky. He’s forced to use a hell of a block – a move he most often calls upon to save his face from a ruinous tangle with a fist – to avoid finding himself soaked in scalding caffeine. </p><p>“Oh, sh - ” Her squeak starts annoyed – he doesn’t blame her for being the opposite of enthused at the idea of repeating the last ten minutes of her existence – and finishes ecstatic when she glances up, linking his features to the initials she’d printed on the labels. “God! Sorry, Bucky! It’s been non-stop in here today!” </p><p>“No worries, Cas.” He dips his head in a wise ‘Ah, yes. Hello, old friend. Good to have you averting future disaster with me’ to the cardboard carrier Cassie slides over next. “Finals going okay?” Her ponytail whips from side to side so fast he winces in sympathy while he fits drinks into slots. </p><p>“Murder. This – ” she points at various aspects of the festive chaos surrounding them “ - is complete cake in comparison.” She sighs. “It’ll be fine, though.”</p><p>“Keep up that sunshine, kid.” He passes her a twenty instead of grabbing the napkin he’d been pretending to reach for. “The world definitely needs as much as this place can handle. Probably more.” </p><p>Cassie tries to return Bucky’s money; he just stands there, sternly insistent, until it disappears somewhere in her apron. “Thank you! You really didn’t have to.” Bucky smiles, pulling his hood into position and the patterned paper against his chest, preparing to once again brave the streets of New York in mid-December. ‘Say hi to Wanda!’ follows him out the door.</p><p>----</p><p>Wanda’s waiting for Bucky around the corner, away from most of the massive press of people. She looks up when his shadow falls over her, shading her eyes from the glare. “We made the right choice?” </p><p>“Oh, definitely,” Bucky promises, swapping her one of his purchases for the puppy burrowed in the warmth of her coat, which she’s got piled in her lap instead of shielding her from the weather. “He’d have had a damn stroke, that many humans to climb and slobber on.” Bucky abandons the other half of what he’d ordered to a planter spiraled with sparkling lights, leaving him free to offer her a hand up. He unwraps the leash she’s wedged into her palm as she gets to her feet. “Hey.” </p><p>For a second, Wanda very clearly assumes this is going to be the beginning of a long lecture for their rarely-still pet, outlining the consequences of squirming past the protection of secure arms when one weighs a mere eleven pounds. Bucky just chuckles, though, hugging the little monster tighter. Wanda tilts her chin quizzically. </p><p>Bucky reaches down for her wool trench. “These work a hell of a lot better when you wear them.” Clocking the collection of snowflakes currently melting under his grip and into the fabric, he rapidly shifts direction. After some interesting maneuvers courtesy of the equally essential task of juggling a living creature, Bucky folds Wanda into his protective leather layer. “It’s twenty-nine degrees at noon, and this stuff isn’t supposed to let up until it’s dumped at least a foot on the city. Refreshing.” Wanda’s teeth click together audibly, which might amuse him if the feeling wasn’t also tinged with a hint of concern. He steps forward, pinching the bits of white that haven’t blended into her hair between his fingers. “Not at all frigid.” </p><p>“He’s tiny, okay?”</p><p>“Honey, if I put him down right now, you know what he’d do?” Rostov delivers several enthusiastic swipes of his tongue to Bucky’s bearded cheek, seemingly in appreciation of and in agreement with his owner’s assumption.</p><p>“If I had to guess?” Bucky nods; Wanda ruffles Rusty’s ears while she contemplates. “Take a running dive into the deepest snow drift in a three-block radius.” Picturing that image, she shivers, yanking her borrowed sleeves down so that only her burgundy manicure peeks out.</p><p>“Exactly! So don’t go getting bronchitis or pneumonia on his account. He already has life pretty well under control.” Bucky tugs her zipper closed as the wind picks up. “And drink this.” He taps her knuckle to remind her what she’s in possession of, setting Rusty on the sidewalk and retrieving his.</p><p>Bucky and Wanda sip simultaneously, their first tastes creating matching expressions of shock and dismay; Bucky’s actually edges toward disgust.</p><p>“It’s seven different holiday candles steeped into a single liquid,” he rasps.</p><p>“Rasslabsya, ty bolshoi rebenok.” Wanda laughs, bursts of frosted air disappearing almost as soon as they materialize in front of her. She covers Bucky’s grimace with a kiss and, although his response lacks neither enthusiasm nor heartfelt sentiment, he reserves enough of his attention to extend her chai six inches away from his body, as if it’s radioactive. Rusty, none too pleased at being neglected, whimpers in distress. Wanda and Bucky only break their connection when the sky outshines its original pace, pouring snow at the speed of a child left alone to dust cookies with powdered sugar. Wanda plucks her latte easily from Bucky’s extremely loose hold. “You’re scaring him,” she warns, lifting their fur-baby for a cuddle.  “You’re not exactly wrong, if that consoles you at all?”</p><p>“Nope, no, not one iota.” He flexes his fingers, begging for his decidedly generic foamed americano. “But nice try. Major points for effort.” </p><p>Wanda presents Bucky’s bitter staple quickly. She’d been clutching the coffee and the puppy with the same grasp and, if she’d been less careful, a Scarlet Witch situation would've certainly graced the pages of The Post tomorrow morning.</p><p>Rusty's small nose had also just come dangerously near discovering that this particular lid has an opening. “You’re excitable without any additives, milaya," she whispers into his soft spine. "The last thing we want is an accident with the menorah, pravilny?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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